As the glistening sunlight broke the seal to my eyelids, memories faded from my obscurity. I had lied, cheated and killed to be where I am. All of the above would be acceptable had I had something to show for myself. I had never lived in the same area for more than 16 months, since leaving home at the age of 15. Brixton, Cosham, Boscombe: none of those will fill your mind with positive thoughts no doubt. I just couldn’t stay grounded, in a literal sense I was always on the run from something or someone.
As my sight started to catch up with my thoughts, I felt unsure as to what I’d achieved by getting here. I was in the depths of Cornwall (some 100 miles off the city). Amongst my failed attempts and my successful triumphs there is always a path, I’m sure my yellow-brick-road which was intentionally planned for Hollywood became a little mis-led.
I wasn’t one for complaints for the challenge of a chase is much more exhilarating. It’s the way to keep alive. Creativity is my way forward, but it brings me only closer to solidarity. I’m currently termed as homeless, it has not always been this way, but I couldn’t keep squatting. The outside held much more promise.
As I re-remember my awakening thoughts I realise that I have mis-guided you, for I have never killed in the physical term. Though I’m sure emotionally will always feel worse, as the recipient carries on living through it. Lying on my death bed, realising I’d challenged myself inexplicably by chasing the silenced desires of my childhood. They’d never been louder than now however, as the chase caught up with the challenge and the sun was becoming the moon.